The Billionaire’s Regret -Alessa (by Bukolami) novel Chapter 37

**Shadows Beneath the Silent Moon**

**Rising Echoes by Aiden R. Vale**

**Chapter 37**

Alessa stepped into the familiar confines of her home, her children trailing behind her like little shadows. The hospital was finally behind her, a place she had always dreaded. The sterile smell, the constant beeping of machines, and the hushed whispers of nurses—it all made her skin crawl. She felt a wave of relief wash over her as she closed the door, shutting out the memories of that place.

Exhaustion had overtaken her kids, and as soon as their heads hit the pillows, they drifted into a peaceful slumber. Alessa watched them for a moment, a soft smile gracing her lips. They looked so serene, their tiny bodies curled up under the blankets. She tiptoed out of the room, careful not to disturb their rest, and made her way to her own sanctuary.

Once inside her room, she retrieved her phone, her heart racing as she dialed a number she knew all too well. The anticipation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. After a few rings, the call connected.

“What the hell, man? What’s your problem?” Alessa’s voice came out sharper than she intended, impatience bubbling over.

“What a lovely way to greet someone,” came the voice on the other end, dripping with sarcasm.

“I did your damn job, Diablo. I did everything you asked of me,” she shot back, her frustration palpable.

“I know, I saw and heard. Good job,” he replied, his tone surprisingly calm.

“Then why the hell did you attack me?” Alessa’s voice was strained, her anger simmering just below the surface as she fought to keep her tone steady.

“What are you talking about?” Diablo’s confusion was evident, and Alessa felt a frown crease her forehead. Did he really not know?

“You were attacked?” he asked, the surprise in his voice only fueling her irritation.

Alessa sighed heavily, sinking onto her bed. She ran a weary hand through her hair, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her.

“At the damn second ball,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, the memory still fresh and unsettling.

A flicker of calm washed over her, but it was fleeting, like a candle flickering in the wind.

“Situation?” Diablo’s voice cut through her thoughts, probing for details.

“Strychnine, I think. It wasn’t a lot, just enough to knock me out for hours,” Alessa explained, her voice laced with an unsettling mixture of fear and resignation.

“Woah,” he breathed, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

“Whoever did this wanted me dead. Not that it’s a surprise—I’ve been in this game long enough to know that’s always a possibility. But why now? I’ve been clean for months, and the only shady job I did was yours,” she replied, her tone sharp with indignation.

“I’ll look into it and get back to you,” Diablo assured her, and she let out a weary sigh.

“Really?” she asked, a hint of skepticism creeping into her voice.

“Yeah, I’ll reach out to you tomorrow,” he promised.

“Okay,” Alessa muttered, disconnecting the call. She dropped her phone onto the bed, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on her. With a heavy heart, she ran her fingers through her hair again, then slowly sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts spiraled.

—

**Chapter 33**

**+25 Bonus**

**SIX YEARS AGO**

Alessa sat cross-legged on the floor, her ears tuned in to Madam Olga’s every word. It had been a month since she had been thrust into this hellhole, and surprisingly, she was starting to find a strange sense of comfort in the chaos around her. The constant danger and the fights felt like a welcome distraction compared to the unforgiving streets of New York City.

Food was scarce, but at least she was eating regularly now, even if it wasn’t enough to quell her insatiable hunger. She could feel herself changing, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Men have different weaknesses. They can appear strong, but they are mostly fools,” Madam Olga stated, her voice authoritative, and a faint chuckle rippled through the room.

“What’s the one thing you can use to get a man?” she posed, her eyes scanning the classroom, challenging her students.

“Power,” one bold student declared.

“Wrong,” Madam Olga shot back, her tone dismissive.

“Giving him control,” another ventured.

“Wrong,” she repeated, her patience wearing thin.

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